


carefree

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Anxiety, Cloud tries to emotion, Coping, Drinking & Talking, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Tipsy Biggs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24179584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: care·free | /ˈkerˌfrē/ | adjectivefree from anxiety or responsibility“Drinking’s easier than talking, and alcohol kills your emotions.” Biggs glanced at him, looking marginally surprised, and Cloud shrugged. “Didn’t say I didn’t know.”“Heh. Yeah…” He looked back at his drink. “What am I saying? You worry about them, too.”“That’s not–”
Relationships: Cloud Strife & Biggs
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	carefree

It was way too late for the lights to be on at Seventh Heaven. Besides, Cloud knew that Tifa had gone home; he’d heard her come in after night had fallen and had no reason to go back out. He would have heard. He hadn’t. She’d been asleep when he’d slipped out himself, restless from a day without mercenary work and, well… it had been slow. So Cloud had found himself wandering, away from Stargazer Heights and along the now-trodden path to the bar. And there was no reason the lights should be on there, when most of the rest were off in town.

He wasn’t worried, exactly, but he allowed his hand to hover near the hilt of the sword as he cracked open the door.

It was Biggs at the bar, familiar dark hair and bright bandana. Cloud dropped his hand from the sword. Yeah, just about what he’d expected. Biggs and Wedge, or Jessie, or Barret with Marlene. He hadn’t exactly known that they came while Tifa was away, but it didn’t matter. As long as– 

The door creaked where it was propped open by his shoulder, and Cloud didn’t move fast enough before Biggs heard. He still let the door fall closed on the _“who’s there?”_ half hesitating on the porch, prepared to make his escape. But, no. It would just ramp up the tension and worry. Cloud sighed, and reached for the handle again.

“It’s just me,” he said, pulling the door open.

“Oh. Cloud.” That severe expression faded, morphing back into one of… hm, no, not relaxation. Just a little too strung up. So Biggs was _thinking_ again, huh. A pretty typical state, from what he was starting to understand. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” He pulled the door closed behind him. “Saw the light on. Tifa’s at home.”

“Oh, right, you’re both in Stargazer Heights now, aren’t you?” Cloud nodded, and Biggs continued. “Yeah. We all have keys. Tifa lets us hang when we want, or if we need to head downstairs.” He twisted forwards to the bar, reaching for the rocks glass sitting there.

“No one else here, though.”

“Nope, just me.”

If Biggs wanted to drink alone, then so be it. It ought to be that simple, really, and Cloud knew the benefits of solitude all too well. But Wedge’s words about Biggs’s all too eager tendency to worry over things stopped him from leaving. For some reason. The same reason he’d stopped him rattling on outside his house the other night quietly moved Cloud across the bar, and had him sliding into the seat next to Biggs before he really knew what he was doing. “Know how to make anything?”

“Absolutely… not.” He laughed as he passed over the bottle of gin, and Cloud huffed a breath that might have been amusement. He wasn’t sure. “Jessie, now _she_ can. Picked it up from Tifa. That girl can do anything.”

He reached across the bar for another glass. “Which one?”

Biggs stopped. He contemplated for a moment, glass still halfway to his lips. Then the pensive expression cleared for the first time since Cloud had walked in, and he shook down the ice diluting his gin, and admitted, “both.”

He was right. Cloud’d seen enough to agree. But he didn’t, instead focused on pouring himself a neat. Biggs was going to keep talking, regardless. He knew that, too.

“A little too much, actually,” Biggs continued. “Tifa, she’s got reservations. We all see that. But maybe it’s not such a bad thing. _Jessie,_ on the other hand, she _never_ hesitates. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not impulsive or anything, but she could just benefit from… taking it easy now and again, you know?”

“Just like you know she won’t.”

“Oh, I _know,”_ Biggs muttered. “Why d’you think I’m here?”

“Drinking’s easier than talking, and alcohol kills your emotions.” Biggs glanced at him, looking marginally surprised, and Cloud shrugged. “Didn’t say I didn’t know.”

“Heh. Yeah…” He looked back at his drink. “What am I saying? You worry about them, too.”

“That’s not–”

Biggs silenced him with a _look,_ and Cloud huffed towards the bar. How many times had he said this wasn’t his problem? How many times had he demanded payment for their jobs? And how many more times _should_ he have been doing as such, and not roaming the streets to check if all were safe at home? Nothing had made him follow Wedge after their chute had landed. He’d done it, anyway. Dragged in.

… yeah, sounded about right. 

Except no one had dragged him into Seventh Heaven tonight, that was for sure. He gulped a mouthful of gin and stared at the back cabinets. Only had himself to blame.

“You don’t need alcohol to stifle your emotions,” Biggs said, nudging at him with an elbow. “You do it so well out of habit. You _think_ you do, anyway.”

“Leave me alone,” he muttered.

“Hey, who joined me drinking?”

“Wedge said you overthink things, so I figured–”

“Oh, he did _not.”_ Biggs groaned, leaning his head onto his arms. “Goddammit, Wedge. Never trust anyone, Cloud, they’ll spill your deepest secrets when they think you aren’t looking.”

“Yeah,” Cloud agreed. “You’re not exactly fooling anyone to begin with, though.”

“Thanks, man.”

“I’m not your man.”

“Aw, but I thought you were Wedge’s bro?”

“I’m not that either!” He ignored the grin, and the closest thing to humor twinkling in Biggs’s eyes, and wondered how _he’d_ come here to check on Biggs and now he was the one getting torn apart. Figured. Never trust anyone. 

… he didn’t mind, much, though. In this instance.

He looked back in time to watch another glass be poured, and frowned into his own. “Biggs.”

“What?”

“Ought to take it easy.”

“… probably.” He sighed, holding the bottle out to Cloud again. “Fine, here. _Don’t_ try to tell me you don’t worry about us.”

“The others would be concerned.” He screwed the cap on and set it aside. “Since you’re the one with the level head.”

“Someone has to be.” Biggs sipped at his drink, and then gesticulated with the glass. “But it’s nice not to be, when they’re not here. It’s a little freeing, I guess, you know?”

“Yeah.” Except not really. Being a SOLDIER was all or nothing. He didn’t say. “Just don’t puke,” he advised.

“I’m not going to puke. Yet,” Biggs added.

“Tifa’ll kill you.”

“So would Barret, and Jessie.”

“Not Wedge?”

“He’d just… worry.”

“So would the others,” Cloud pointed out.

Biggs laughed. “Yeah. You’re not wrong.” Quietly, he set the glass back down on the bar. “Still… this is nice,” he said. “You… You’ve got this kind of quiet concern. You’ll come in here, sure, check on me. But you won’t look at me twice for it. Won’t, I dunno, guilt me into going home. It’s nice to just… be chill, with someone.” Then he shrugged, and fixed him with a grin that was only slightly more goofy than it might have been sober. Carefree, the worry lines gone from his face. “You’re a good guy, Cloud.”

Embarrassment bloomed warm at the tips of his ears, a faint but noticeable thing. He was still being tormented, still being teased. “The hell are you even saying?” he complained, and gulped the rest of his tumbler in one go. It burned on the way down, like the heat simmering beneath his skin at Biggs’s easy smile. “I’m cutting you off.”

“Ha!”

“Shut up.”

“Roger that,” Biggs said. “I won’t tell ‘em if you won’t, merc.”

 _There’s nothing to tell. I’ve got nothing to hide._ But he wasn’t so sure, anymore, and he let the conversation trail off into comfortable silence in favor of not having to say anything else. And maybe in favor of not letting Biggs say anything else, either.

What he didn’t expect was the man to fall asleep at the bar, completely contrary to the type of behavior Cloud had started to expect from him being drunk. But then, it _was_ late. And Biggs was always… always on his toes. If this was his one chance to let his guard down, then… 

“Biggs.”

Not a movement. Didn’t so much as twitch, head down on his arms with his hair escaping the bandana tied ‘round his head. And probably, Cloud should leave him there; his choices, his consequences. Let Tifa sort him out in the morning. But something stopped him from doing that, too, from leaving him there like that. Probably the same thing that had brought him into the bar in the first place. He didn’t want to think about it.

Even still, Cloud sighed and reached over, gripping his shoulder. “Biggs,” he repeated, and shook a little when he didn’t respond. He wondered if he always slept like the dead. Probably not. “Biggs, hey.”

“‘m fine,” he slurred. Both asleep and drunk.

Cloud scoffed, and shook a little harder. “Hey. I’m not above leaving you for Tifa to find, you know.”

“Sure you’re not, merc…” He turned his face a little more into the crook of his arm. “Jus’ five more minutes.”

“I’ll go get Wedge.”

At that, Biggs _groaned–_ honest to the gods low but whiny and muffled by his arm– and turned his head enough to squint towards Cloud. “Goddamn, Cloud. Playin’ hardball now.”

“You’re not making it easy.” He gave a shove until Biggs sat himself mostly upright, grumbling the whole while. “Go home and sleep it off.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

_“Biggs.”_

_“Yeah,”_ he repeated, getting to his feet. “I’m going– er.”

And there was the wooziness, the way he reached out to steady himself against the bar and look a little chastised again at getting drunk. And there went Cloud’s whatever-the-hell it was, urging him to his feet and knowing he’d have to see Biggs home. Damn.

“Hold on,” he ordered, grabbing their glasses to put in the sink.

“I’m fine. Just a little…” Biggs gestured vaguely at his head. “You know.” He did manage to grab his jacket from the back of a seat and shrug it on– it was colder, at night, they told him, but he didn’t seem to notice it himself– but Cloud still joined him at the door before he could make his escape. Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as he looked. But then, maybe he’d end up in a ditch somewhere. Cloud couldn’t take that chance.

“C’mon.”

Biggs managed to look… surprised, he guessed, in the few moments before the dark that came when Cloud hit the lights. “Are you walking me home?”

“I’m walking you home,” Cloud said, urging him out.

“I’m really not _that_ drunk.”

“And I’m really not that stupid.”

“Whatever you say.”

“C’mon,” Cloud repeated, and had to hold onto Biggs’s elbow when he stumbled on the stairs. “Sure you’re not drunk?”

“No, I’m buzzed.” Biggs huffed a laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Definitely that. It’s pretty nice, though.”

“Yeah. For you, maybe.” Cloud nodded down the street. “Let’s go.”

“On it.”

It was a good thing he didn’t live further, stumbling again by the time they made it to his front door. Eyelids drooping as they came to a stop, and half leaning against Cloud’s shoulder as he waited for him to go inside. Cloud wondered if he ever slept a normal night, or spent half the night wiling away the time with his anxieties. But then, he wasn’t the best guess on sleeping normally to begin with. 

“Biggs.” He frowned at the shock of dark hair half dozing against his shoulder, stuck up in all directions from the bandana halfway off his head. _“Biggs,”_ Cloud repeated, exasperated and… something… grabbing the red fabric and tugging it free. Biggs stirred a little at that, hauling himself up straight _again._ “Go inside and get some sleep.”

“Yeah. I–” Biggs squinted at him through the hair falling into his face, and reached up to shove his bangs aside. “Thanks, Cloud.” He yawned, and was only a little too late in covering it behind a hand. “For getting me back.”

“Yeah.” Cloud shoved the bandana into Biggs’s hand and stepped back. “Take it easy for tonight.”

“Yeah,” Biggs replied. “You, too. Neighborhood watch tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” Like he had anything better to do. Like he had anywhere better to be.

“Bright and early,” Biggs said, and then, pausing with his hand on the door, blinking a little. “Oookay, maybe not so early,” he amended, and grinned over his shoulder. “‘night, Cloud.”

“Night,” he murmured, watching him go.

It was only after a few seconds– seconds, surely– of watching the lights in Biggs’s home click on– and off again– that he realized he was _lingering._ Watching, just to be sure. Caring, when he wasn’t supposed to be. They weren’t his problem. He’d said it again and again.

Sighing, Cloud turned around to head for home. Whatever that was. Stargazer Heights and Avalanche… the closest things he had right now, huh? Pathetic, and honest, and… _still_ pathetic. But here he was, unintentionally chasing down drunks in the middle of the night. And he wasn’t even that annoyed. Okay, a little annoyed.

… who was he kidding. He’d do it again if he didn’t think Wedge, Jessie, or Barret weren’t safe at home. And Tifa…

He shook his head, trying not to think he was attached to them now. All of them. He didn’t want them to be his fate. And for their sake, he didn’t want to be _theirs._ But here he was. So much for solitary.

Cloud reached to secure the familiarity of his sword, and headed back towards his home.

**Author's Note:**

> I just love the _hell_ outta Biggs alright? I want someone to sit him down and help him through his anxieties and unfortunately Cloud isn't going to the one to really Talk Emotions but hey they can sit and be quiet and drink and Cloud'll make sure he gets home, right? _they're fine, they'll both be fine_
> 
>  __anyway hello I'm new to ffvii, finished the remake yesterday, know nothing about the original but my love for Biggs now know no bounds


End file.
